


Poppy

by Ending_Daley



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Baby Fic, F/M, nothing happy happens in this just so you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ending_Daley/pseuds/Ending_Daley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poppies were peaceful, sleepy, laid to rest. That was how he had come to see her now. The flowers that sat under the window seal were ripped up hours later, after he had drunk himself into a stupor. Although he loved her, and would continue to do so, he couldn’t quite handle the reminder in his own yard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poppy

He had no choice but to accept the things fate handed to him.

He worried that he would upset her. Caught between two worlds he struggled to find equilibrium, balance enough that didn’t make him blind or inconsiderate. Mostly he didn’t know how handle her problems delicately.

Effie had curled into herself, pulling arm and leg into an invisible shell, protecting her interior from a world that no longer existed.

He had always seen her as a doll. Porcelain. Precious. Put on display. She was too expensive for the eyes that longed for her, and mistreated by those that could acquire her.

Her mistreatment led to cracks in her porcelain flesh, all in the form of very real scars. Her hair, although mostly grown back, had been hacked in odd places, almost like patches had fallen off; the result of too harsh tugging. When she was first returned to him she was too thin, too frail, wobbly on her legs, stuttering in her speech. She wasn’t the woman he had known. The woman he had worked with. The woman he both loved and hated, loved to hate, loathed to love. He spent days trying to reassure her, listening to her sob, moan and scream. He flinched every time she opened her mouth. She didn’t speak. Not casual conversation but harrowing recounts of the days, weeks, months – she didn’t know – in which she was subjected to that treatment.

His blood ran cold. Some spoiled Capitol brat treated her appallingly all because he had laid eyes on her first. Because he let her get too close, because she cared for him too often.

She picked up her own pieces, gluing herself back together, her arm wrapped around his waist but unwilling to fully accept his help.

She started average conversation, checking in on the children and finding a role among the rebellion. She steered clear of Coin, hanging behind to avoid a collision. Her recovery only drove him closer to her. She hadn’t recovered at all, not really. She did so for pretences sake. Underneath she was still crying. Her shakes still ran across her hands, making her fingers dance.

She stopped sleeping in her shared room with a woman she didn’t know, preventing herself from keeping the stranger up. She found his bed on those nights. He rarely slept. With the rebellion in full swing, he opted not to have down time. He stayed with her some nights.

There were nights when he would pull himself away from the war room. He and Effie stayed up talking despite the fact that they both needed rest. Some nights she cried, others she slept fitfully while he stroked her hair, promising to keep away the nightmares and failing horribly. And then, they slowly started to fall together; sweaty skin, torn clothes, slow kisses and rough caresses. He mapped out her scars even though she didn’t want him to acknowledge them. She scratched her fingernails through his course stubble, her hands seeking out his in order to smooth the aches of his withdrawal.

The war ended.

Katniss fell apart. Leaving the both of them to stand on the sidelines like worried parents as uproar broke out, it never really having died down. Katniss would be redeemed from her actions if she went back to District 12, after her recovery, in the care of a guardian. Haymitch stepped up. Effie followed.

In District 12, Effie kept to herself limiting her interactions to Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta once he too had joined them. Like in Thirteen, she gave up on her Capitol fashion. Her hair was natural, mostly up in elaborate buns, braids or a simple pony tail in order to distract eyes from the uneven nature of it that had yet to grow back properly. She refused to cut it so it was even, as was Haymitch’s suggestion. She despised her hair but she would not cut the length. She wore the simple cotton dresses, left the make-up off her face and all around surprised the man she was living with. The fight ran out of her, heading for the hills and as far away as it could get.

Mentally she wasn’t prepared for what came next. She cried again, helpless, sorrow filled tears. He wanted to be stubborn, mad and angry but he couldn’t when her recovery threatened to relapse. It was almost enough to drive him back to liquor. Haymitch stood his ground, he owed a responsibility to the life they were to bring into the world.

Effie’s pregnancy was a shock, but she smiled through it. In fact, despite the shakes and flashbacks that still cursed her, Effie was happy.

They had good days and bad, some where she dissolved into herself, covers thrown over her head. There were days where she was so excited, over the moon, days were she would talk to anyone who would listen about her baby girl.

On her bad days Haymitch wanted to scream, he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her so hard her eyes would roll into the back of her head. He wanted to call her stupid and selfish. Doctor Winters advised him against lashing out on her. He was promised by the good doctor that once the baby was born Effie’s depression and anxiety would be easier to heal and manage. She had to take care, he advised, warning against the issues that arose in depression heavy pregnancies.

Their daughter was born into a world with suffering parents. A mother whose depression came in and out like relatives during the holiday season, refusing medication that the hospital offered, too stubborn to accept help and a father who had no desire to rear life.

Their daughter was born in the spring. Early morning, as the sun rose to kiss the earth. It was peaceful and warm, completely perfect for the little girl who entered the world quietly, but alive.

She was his undoing the second she was born.

He had never seen something so small, so precious, so in need of tender loving care. She didn’t cry, only waved her arms and kicked her legs, testing out her new found freedom. A nurse removed her from her parents for a second. Haymitch refused to let her out of his sight, he hovered over nurses shoulders in order to ensure they weren’t hurting his daughter.

When the nurse was done she wrapped the little girl expertly in a lilac blanket before confidently passing her to Haymitch. He paused, staring at the young nurse with nervous eyes before he hesitantly did what she instructed. His daughter, when tucked into the crook of his elbow was as light as a feather. Haymitch worried that he would forget he was holding her, and simultaneously never wanted to let her go. His eyes were glued to her round face, her little eye lashes, petite nose and her tiny rosebud lips. He laughed, at her, at the situation, at himself. She was perfect. She was his. Once upon a time he would have worried about that, but the rebellion succeeded, she was safe to be his little girl.

Without thought he named her Poppy for the flowers that sat outside the window of her awaiting nursery. He hadn’t asked Effie yet, but he knew it was perfect.

He turned to Effie with a bright smile, tears in his eyes and joy on his face. It fell away quickly as he caught her eyes rolling into the back of her head as the heart monitor’s gentle, rhythmic beats slowed. The same nurse who had handed over his daughter, took her away in a second, shoving him out of the room as nurses and the doctor huddled around Effie.

Haymitch felt like a curtain had fallen between them, dropping in order to separate them. He banged on the delivery room door. A nurse came out to distract him. She dragged him away from the door and into the next hallway. She was smaller than him, younger, he could have over powered her but he knew, at the same time, the doctors would help Effie.

The nurse sat with him for a while, explaining that Effie had lost too much blood and was still losing it. She promised him that she would be fine but Haymitch didn’t believe her. She left him after half an hour, promising to check on his daughter who was perfectly fine.

Haymitch watched the clock on the wall tick for two hours before he was approached by a different nurse. ‘Your wife is stable, and awake. You can go see her now.’ He didn’t argue with the girl, just nodded and followed her down the hallway.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding when his eyes fell on Effie. She was facing the door, her face pale, her back to the small crib next to the window. ‘Hey,’ he whispered approaching her quickly to drop a kiss on her cheek. ‘You had me so worried.’ He kissed her again, while his hand played with her sweaty hair. Effie smiled softly, promising that she was alright. ‘Have you seen her? She’s beautiful, Effie.’ He couldn’t help the smile that chased across his face as the baby gurgled behind her.

Effie stiffed, her body going ridged under his hand. Haymitch didn’t notice, he had moved away before he could, his feet carrying him towards the little girl. He scooped Poppy up, suddenly confident in handling her. Carrying her over to Effie he dragged a chair with his foot to her bedside. ‘I know you probably have a very _Capitol_ name picked out,’ they hadn’t discussed names at all, Effie was very loud about not deciding on a name until she had her child in her arms. ‘But, I want to name her Poppy.’  He settled into the chair next to her, eyes only for his daughter until Effie didn’t reply.

Looking up he found her with her eyes pinched closed. ‘Effie?’ he questioned, ‘are you alright?’ she shook her head. ‘Do you want me to get a nurse, the doctor, maybe?’ Again, she shook her head.

‘Put her back.’ She whispered, eyes still closed. Effie, already riddled with post-traumatic stress and depression was overwhelmed with anxiety towards her daughter.   

‘Effie,’ he started but she didn’t let him continue, instead she rose her voice a little higher and repeated her words with desperation. Haymitch did as she said, reluctantly before returning to the chair, his hand reaching out for hers. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked quietly.

‘I can’t be her mother.’ He chuckled softly, reassuring the woman that she had mothered him enough, and the tributes that they met along the way, not to mention Katniss and Peeta. The boy had stumbled more than enough times and accidentally called her _mom_. ‘I can’t Haymitch, I can’t. Katniss and Peeta are nearly in their twenties, they don’t need me to be alright all the time.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be fine.’ She shook her head so hard and so fast he worried that it would hurt after what she had been through.

‘No, no, take her away Haymitch. Give her to someone else.’ She cried, tears dripping down her cheeks. Haymitch bolted from the chair, metal legs screeched across the floor as he stared at his Escot, the woman he had known for too many years to count. When she found out she was pregnant Effie had cried, not unlike now she was frightened, but happy, that was the difference. She had told him she couldn’t conceive that she was worried this baby wouldn’t make it to full term, that she was scared she was setting herself up for heartache. And now, she wanted him to take their baby away.

His voice was stern when he spoke to her, he didn’t take a seat and he did not reach for her hand. ‘Effie, you just went through an ordeal, I don’t doubt that your whole body is freaking out right now. You’re just scared, it’ll all be alright. Don’t you ever ask me to give away _our_ daughter again. Don’t be so stupid.’ He stormed out of the room, anger bubbling in his blood stream. He had to get out and away from her before he really lost his temper.

He got halfway down the hall when he stopped, suddenly worried that he had left Poppy alone with the mother who wanted to get rid of her so desperately. He turned to the nurses station, recognising one of the women there as being in the delivery room. He asked her about Effie, maybe they had rewired her brain while he wasn’t looking. The nurse encouraged him back to Effie’s room.

They called it _baby blues_.

The nurse who had dragged him back to Effie’s room explained that 80% of new mothers went through it, couldn’t control it and would overcome it in a matter of weeks. She stood between Effie and Haymitch, who had taken to holding Poppy again, and explained that Effie’s body changed so dramatically from being pregnant and then not in seconds, add the blood loss to the list she assumed the woman was just a little distressed.

She warned Effie that feelings of anger or resentment could be post-partum depression and if she felt as though she had it she needed to speak with the doctors. Effie only forced a smile and agreed with the woman that it could just be the blues. She still refused to touch Poppy. Haymitch saw right through her professional façade, the over the top enthusiasm and shrill voice. He didn’t press her. She was looking at their daughter, that was one step, he knew if she had determination enough that she would try to overcome it on her own. He knew she took anti-depressants, he knew she hated them, he knew she stopped taking them when she found out about the baby. He thought maybe she would start taking them again.

The nurses organised to bottle feed Poppy, whose name they had taken and embraced with no intrusion from Effie. With her mother’s reluctance to touch her, Haymitch was left with feeding duty. He settled with her in the chair again, now away from Effie’s bedside. He listened to her suckle on the bottle watching her content face as she feed eagerly in his arms.

‘She is beautiful,’ Effie whispered watching them both with a small smile.

They took her home the next day. Haymitch introduced her to the poppies outside her window despite the fact that she was fast asleep.  Katniss and Peeta came to visit with eager expressions and a soft violet elephant in tow. They oo-ed and ahh-ed at little Poppy while she slept, peacefully undisturbed. Peeta was the first to hesitantly ask if he could pick her up. Haymitch laughed, his arm around Effie’s waist as he gave the boy permission.

Peeta refused to let her go, kissing her little fingers he promised the girl that when she was big enough he would paint anything on her bedroom walls and bake any cake she so desired for her birthday. He had dubbed himself _Uncle Peeta_ in a matter of minutes promising her a future he was completely happy to cash in on. Katniss watched on, face contorted in horror. His loving attitude towards the baby was almost clucky, and it scared her beyond words.

In the two weeks since they had brought her home Haymitch surprisingly adjusted easily to Poppy’s built in schedule of naps, feedings, play time for the little of it that she had. He learnt her cries and her demands, each of them without Effie’s help. Effie stayed in bed mostly, hidden under the covers sleeping. The doctors told him that she needed rest. Haymitch hardly believed she needed as much as she was having. Her tear stained cheeks proved other things were going on in her head.

Effie didn’t ask after Poppy, but she listened when he had something to say about her. She never aided in his deliberations, instead stayed silent or told him to figure it out on his own. Peeta helped, well, tried to help and Katniss laughed watching the two men trying to figure out how many layers would keep the baby warm, how tight was too tight to wrap a blanket and if her bottle was too hot.

He didn’t leave her side. Haymitch stopped sleeping in his bed with Effie, opting for the daybed in the nursery instead. Poppy went where Haymitch went. It was endearing for the District citizens to see the once town drunk, doting on a little purple and pink girl whose eyes were as bright as her mothers and her spirit as wild as her father. Admittedly, she was two weeks old, Haymitch only shrugged when people made those suggestions.

He didn’t know how much he would regret leaving Poppy until he did. He kept her with him out of a protective urge and the inability to leave her with anyone else.

He planned to spend the morning at the Mellark house. Katniss and Peeta were working on a book in memory of their friends and fallen tributes. Haymitch offered insight into those they didn’t know all that well. He never offered for them to work on it in his kitchen, it was always theirs. Their safe place, not his. That and Peeta was loud on his feet, enough so that he woke Poppy if he moved about too much.

‘Oh please don’t, Haymitch. Just take her with you. The children adore her, they won’t mind. Besides, you keep telling me how she sleeps like a rock, I doubt she’ll disturb them.’ Effie pleaded, coffee mug pressed against her chest as she stood in the kitchen, eyes panicked at the thought of a morning alone with the sleeping baby.

Haymitch huffed beside her, she knew how often it was that Peeta woke the girl. He wouldn’t argue with her. ‘I can’t, Effie. This is about the kids, about the past, it’s no place for Poppy. You’re her mother, it’ll be fine.’ He knew better than that, but he hopped the reassurance would encourage her to step forward with the girl. ‘She’s already asleep, you don’t have to do anything. I’m just asking that you go in and check on her. You don’t have to touch her. If she starts crying, come get me. That’s it.’ He put his hands on her shoulders, gripping tightly for a second as he locked eyes with her. They were falling apart. He could see it. Not just her, but the both of them, together. They were no longer and _us_ but individual people. Her with the depression. He with the baby.

Her doctors suggested if her baby blues persisted that Haymitch should bring her in. He didn’t have the heart to condemn her to treatment she didn’t want. She had enough things forced upon her in her life. Spiralling downwards was just what happened when people were free, things no longer shoved down their throats.   

‘If you need anything at all, _come get me_.’ She nodded solemnly, promising on a quiet tongue, she would fetch him if anything was amiss with the girl. Haymitch hoped it would be an exercise in strength for the woman. He didn’t want to come back to a screaming baby with a leaking diaper and a quasi-comatose Effie in the throes of a panic attack. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

It was peaceful in Katniss and Peeta’s home. Quiet and mournful as they respected those they lost. An hour ticked passed as Katniss wrote everything Haymitch was saying down, while Peeta worked on portraits from memory.

The house was quiet, still, cloaked in the cloud of memory. Effie’s shrieking pulled them from their lost friends. Haymitch’s heart started to pound, despite the annoyance that filled his head at the thought of her. Surely Poppy was crying and Effie was overreacting to the need the child displayed.

‘Haymitch!’ she wailed, her voice calling out at the top of her lungs as he moved through the front door, noisily. ‘HAY-HAYMITCH!’ He thought she couldn’t yell any louder, but she did. The kids followed him out of their house, panicked.

Effie was on the street, only just stepping away from his house. She picked up her pace as she saw him, but she didn’t run. Haymitch stopped, she was holding Poppy. ‘Quit shrieking, woman!’ He snapped at her, the space between them not close enough. ‘Motherly instinct kick in, or did she jump?’ He joked.

She got closer, the expression on her face became clearer. Effie was scared, horrified, panicked. It wasn’t the usual anxious look that sat on her face. Something was really wrong. ‘Haymitch,’ her voice wobbled, ‘she’s not breathing.’  He took a step back, even though instinct wanted to push him forward. ‘She’s not breathing, I don’t know what to do. What do I do?’ She was rocking the girl, almost manically, desperation in her eyes as her eyes flicked between Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta, begging them for help.

‘What did you do?’ Haymitch hissed, stepping forward finally to take the baby. Effie wouldn’t let go, his hands were trying to pry Poppy into his arms but Effie wouldn’t let go.

A sob ripped through her throat before she could speak, fat tears falling down her cheeks as she shook the baby, trying to wake her up. ‘N-n-nothing. She’s my baby. I didn’t hurt her. Haymitch, please, I didn’t hurt her.’

‘Someone’s on their way!’ Peeta called out to them from the front of the house. Hearing Effie’s words he called to the hospital, told them it was an emergency. Katniss was at Effie’s shoulder, gently trying to encourage her old escort to let go of the small child.

‘What. Did. You. _Do?’_ Haymitch hissed, his eyes darting up to the mother of his child only for a second before he focused on Poppy’s face. She wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t feel her heart beat. He didn’t know what to do just as much as the manic woman.

‘Nothing!’ She shrieked, arms wrapped around herself. ‘I checked, I checked on her like you asked. Haymitch, she was fine an hour ago. Sleeping!’ She let go of herself to push Katniss’s arms off her. ‘Please, just, just give me my baby.’ She asked softly, arms outstretched.

Haymitch was holding Poppy with her head on his shoulder, patting her back, hoping it might just have been gas. He refused to notice her delicate lips turning slightly blue. ‘She’s your daughter now? Now that’s she’s not breathing, you suddenly care?’

Effie shook her head, her vision blurred with tears. ‘You’re being too rough. Give me my baby.’ She was hysterical. A broken woman. Falling apart after trauma upon trauma was thrown upon her, she started reacting to it, thriving off of it. Effie fell to her knees in the dirt when Haymitch denied her the girl. Peeta lead him inside worried out of his wits as he did so while Katniss remained in the dirt with Effie.

The woman sobbed, dirt turning into mud on her cheeks as she tried to wipe the salty tears away. She howled, begging for her daughter, promising that she didn’t hurt her.

The doctor from the hospital arrived, heading straight for the house without stopping at the woman and the girl. Haymitch was yelling not long after the man had entered. Vulgar, vicious words left his throat and filled the air, slowly wafting out the window, before they were replaced with barely there pleas.  

The house fell quiet. Too quiet. Katniss tried to get Effie to her feet but the woman refused to budge. Her crying had slowed as she sat, her arms wrapped around Katniss. ‘He’ll come out in a second and she’ll be right as rain. She will be, I’ve seen some amazing miracles happen in The Capitol, it’ll happen here. She was just sleeping is all.’ She sounded mad as she tutted on about miracles and medicine and how clever her little girl was for foxing death so well.

Haymitch stormed out slowly, alone. Effie’s breath hitched in her throat and Katniss had the distinct instinct to hold onto her tightly. Her daughter wasn’t alright.

‘All you had to do was check in on her!’ Haymitch roared as he stepped towards them, his boots kicking up the dirt as he got too close. Katniss, again, tried to pull Effie from her feet, hoping to get her out of Haymitch’s reach. ‘You didn’t have to touch her, or pick her up, or feed her. You didn’t even have to sit there like she was awake! She was sleeping! What the _fuck_ did you do to my daughter?!’ His voice boomed, large hands reaching out to grab Effie’s arm and pulled her to her feet, harshly. Effie gasped, her hands pushing at his, trying to get them off her. She wasn’t as strong as he was.

His grip tightened on her arm, his spare hand took hold of the other and squeezed just as hard. She could see a vein pounding in his forehead, the fire in his eyes, the desperation. He had been through a hurt like this before but he could never take it out on the man who killed his family. ‘You _killed_ my daughter.’ He hissed, spittle flying with his words and speckling her cheeks. ‘Are you happy? She’s dead, you don’t have to hear her crying or look at her, you don’t have to see me happy.’ He only squeezed her harder, so tempted to shift his hands and watch the life drain from her face. He was furious, so far beyond mad she knew there was no coming back.

He had lost the last person he would ever allow himself to love.

Katniss was standing between them, her hand on Haymitch’s arm, asking him quietly to let Effie go. This wasn’t her fault. He shoved the woman, hard, before he loosed his grip. She stumbled, once, twice, three times before she fell on her ass.  

‘You fucking disgust me.’ He growled, predatory before he stormed off into his house.

Katniss helped Effie off the ground, fixing her simple dress and brushing of the dirt from her face. There were red rings on her arms. ‘I should go. I, I shouldn’t be here anymore. Twelve, it’s, it’s not my home.’ Katniss shook her head, promising that Haymitch would settle down, he would calm after a few hours, see the light. Effie only shook her head. ‘He won’t.’ He didn’t want children, he didn’t want to give his heart to anyone. With the succession of the rebellion Haymitch finally handed what was left of him to her. She cherished it, saw how important it was. It only repaired itself a little with Poppy. She’s taken it all away now. He will never forgive and he certainly will not forget.

‘Where are you going to go Effie?’ The woman shrugged, tears falling from her eyes again as she begged Katniss for help.

***

Six Years Later

He still had nightmares about Poppy. Nightmares in which he was standing over her, watching intently, and yet he couldn’t save her. The doctor had called it SIDS, sudden infant death syndrome. He explained apologetically that it just happens, there’s nothing anyone can do to prevent it. Haymitch had heard stories about babies dying in their sleep but he never once thought it would happen to him, not to his Poppy.

Poppies were peaceful, sleepy, laid to rest. That was how he had come to see her now. The flowers that sat under the window seal were ripped up hours later, after he had drunk himself into a stupor. Although he loved her, and would continue to do so, he couldn’t quite handle the reminder in his own yard.

He had just replanted those flowers. Only now, after six years.

‘Oh Katniss, she’s just divine!’ The shrill sound of an all too familiar voice broke him out of his thoughts of Poppy. They were constant daydreams. Sometimes he would imagine her as she should have been now, pictured her dancing around the Mellark kitchen, falling in love with little Maya, begging Katniss to braid her hair. He never saw Effie in those daydreams.

‘Really dear, I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. The Capitol is busy, busy, busy.’ He felt his gut churn. It only took a second though to recognise the chipper voice from long ago.

He turned an incriminating glare towards the boy beside him. Peeta only looked sheepish, guilt written all over his face. ‘She insisted on coming.’ He supplied to the man whose anger was already radiating in thick waves. ‘Please, Haymitch. It’s just for a day or two. Just, don’t start anything.’ Haymitch grasped the neck of his whisky bottle and shrugged. No promises. She could just as easily start something on her own.

He could hear Effie’s bright chatter echoing down the halls followed by brief responses from Katniss and the gurgling of the baby. She was talking absolute crap, he scoffed, listening as her voice got closer. He could just as easily leave, but he was promised a meal and he intended on cashing that in.

That, and he was curious.

Things had not ended well between himself and Effie Trinket. She left the afternoon their daughter died. Effie accepted refugee in the Mellark house while Peeta and Katniss tried to find a permanent place for her outside of District 12. Haymitch didn’t know where she went or who she was with, but he had heard that in a matter of months she had returned to being her chipper old annoying self. Right now was proof.

While she hid from him, he got drunk; swallowing whisky faster than he could breathe while he ripped out the poppies in his yard.

She was back now, briefly, as Peeta suggested, to meet Maya Mellark. The girl was almost a year old, Effie was months too late. Haymitch swallowed another mouthful of his whiskey forcing it down his throat as he had hoped to force down the memories.

‘Oh, hello.’ Effie was startled as she appeared in the doorway, eyes directly on him. She had adopted Capitol style again, but died it down for District 12. Perhaps, she had a respect for the place that held her daughter’s memory. Or, maybe, Capitol fashion wasn’t all that big this year. Either way, he didn’t know.

Haymitch’s stomach churned again at the sight of her holding Maya. The little girl had a mixture of her mother’s seam eyes and her father’s bright blue. The colour on her had been almost sea foam. He wandered back to Poppy, remembering the vibrancy of her eyes and how he was promised that they would change. He would never know if they were going to turn grey or remain her mother’s auspicious blue.

Peeta greeted her with a tight hug. They had kept in contact, the children and her. No bad blood sat between them as the years went by. Just his bitter regret and angry heart that kept a wall between her communications. She asked after him, the children answered, never once did they offer to pass on a message.

‘She’s beautiful, you two must be so proud.’ Effie smiled at the baby on her hip. He couldn’t help but think of the sight of her, on the street, panicked expression, dead Poppy lifeless in her mother’s unfamiliar arms.

Their daughter would have been seven-years-old that Spring.

Haymitch snapped. His eyes breaking away from the woman holding a dead memory as he turned and fled from the room, slamming the backdoor closed as he left.

He was deciding if he should take himself to bed or if he should keep drinking until he passed out when he heard the backdoor creak open softly. ‘What do you want?’ he called out to her. Haymitch had no doubt in his mind who it was. Peeta and Katniss were never that quiet no matter the hour. Peeta had heavy steps and Katniss slammed doors, it was Effie who tiptoed in quietly, unoiled hinges her only give away.

‘You started drinking again.’

‘You’re still a Capitol whore.’

‘Can you _please_ not speak to me like that, Haymitch. I didn’t come over here to argue with you.’ Effie sighed heavily, the same soft sound she used to make on her good days while she was staying with him. He could imagine her pinching her eyes shut as she exhaled. The pleading in her voice begged for the vulgar language to be kept at bay.

‘Why did you come over here then?’ he took another swig, opting to pass out at the soonest convenience, maybe then she would leave.

Effie appeared in his line of sight, her posture immaculate, the bright blues she was wearing set off the colour of her eyes, even in the dark space of his living room he could see their vibrancy sparkle. ‘I just wanted to say sorry.’ Haymitch barked a laugh so sharp Effie flinched, jumping back from him a step.

‘Sorry?’ she nodded. ‘Oh no, sweetheart, sorry won’t do at all. She’s dead.’

She stared at him, eyes searching his face for some form of understanding. They were too far gone, their lives ruined just enough that she knew he would never forgive her. She sighed, long and heavy, her shoulders slumping forward slightly as the fight ran away. ‘You obviously don’t want to listen to what I have to say. I’m just going to go, I won’t waste my breath or your time. Just, just forget I ever came, Haymitch. Continue to live in your bitter anger.’ She tutted quietly, not the same Effie that she had once been, no shrill shriek, just a quiet defence.

Effie turned slowly, opting to exit through the front door instead of the back. She thought it appropriate to walk out of his life properly through the front like anyone else would. Haymitch stopped her, a hand to her waist, holding her still. A shadow on the back of her ankle caught his eye.

His hand ran steadily down the back of her leg until it stopped, cupping her calf, the fingers of his absent hand ran over the offending shadow causing Effie to tense. He was crouching, his hand gripping her leg while his eyes tried to focus on what he saw. Haymitch growled. The fingers of his left hand traced the neatly drawn image. A tattoo. He scoffed, not very Effie and yet there it was. Three long stemmed poppies traced up the back of her ankle. Her shoes didn’t do much to hide them.  

‘Johanna talked me into it,’ Effie whispered too scared to move as Haymitch’s grip tightened on her calf.

‘You don’t get to remember her,’ Haymitch hissed. His grip was biting hard on her leg, enough so she was worried it would leave a mark.

Effie grew rigid, her muscles tensing under his hand. ‘I think you’re forgetting that she was my daughter too, Haymitch. You were not the only one left mourning her.’

‘You didn’t want her.’ He cut her off with a stare so vicious when she looked down at him she had to bite her tongue. Never would Effie back down to this man, never. Something primal came out in him when Poppy was concerned and it terrified her. He would never actually hurt someone, but he had tried the day Poppy died.

She hesitated for a moment, collecting herself, the anger, her desperation before she let it break. He wouldn’t hurl insults at her anymore. ‘That’s bullshit and you know it!’ Her language had been passed on from her time with Johanna. She heard the rustling of his clothes as he let go of his grip on her leg and stood straight behind her. ‘She was my daughter. I may have been depressed but I did acknowledge that she was _mine.’_ She spun around, her eyes level with his now that she was wearing heels again. ‘Don’t you _dare_ take that away from me.’ 

He opened his mouth, ready to retort like he always was. Effie held up a hand, stopping him. ‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t all there, I’m sorry I refused help. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to help you with our daughter in the little time we had her. I’m sorry that she’s dead and that it happened on my watch. But, it wasn’t my fault. Don’t tell me sorry isn’t enough, it’s all I’ve got, for you, for her. It’s all I can give you, Haymitch. I can’t bring her back and I certainly can’t make it hurt any less.’ She was standing tall, holding onto the fight she had lost long ago. Tears burnt at her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

‘I’m not taking you back.’ His face was indifferent, but his voice was soft. 

‘I’m not asking you to.’ She shook her head, small laugh coming from her throat. ‘I help Annie with Finn, I’m happy there with them. Johanna comes to visit, she spends some of her time trying to teach me the magic of freedom; although, I could do without the vivacious cussing.’

‘That does explain the swearing. Hang on, what, you’ve been in Four the whole time?’ He had taking the trip out to District 4 on several occasions specifically to visit Annie and little Finn. Never once had any of them mentioned Effie.

She nodded, ‘well, not the whole time. Peeta and Katniss sent me to a wellness centre. I wasn’t allowed to leave until I was in better shape and promised to take my medication. I really wasn’t well, Haymitch. I should have realised.’ He shook his head, no, she had been through too much to notice she was slipping out of control. _He_ should have noticed. ‘You’ll come visit?’ He wondered if it was hard for her, living with Annie and her son, a boy who is nearly two years older than Poppy. Did she think about it?

‘I will,’ he promised.  

‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered. The seventh time she had said it. He watched her crumble for a second, cracks appearing in her tough façade. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she whispered for the eighth time. Her voice cracked, a small sob breaking through. Haymitch hugged her instantly, letting her cry into his shirt. It was almost like they were beginning all over again, he rugged and smelling of liquor, she dressed like a silly clown from The Capitol, falling apart in his arms, apologising to him for her own torture.

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ He said it, words he didn’t think he would ever say. He was convinced, despite the facts, that he would blame her forever.

‘I wish I could go back and change it all.’

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ He managed to say it again, for himself, for the both of them. Reassurance. His hand stroked her hair as he listened to the quiet puffs of her breath below his ear.

He couldn’t be okay with what had happened, he would never be. His daughter died without proper reason or explanation. He had given her his whole heart. But, Effie still held a piece of it. He was mad, but he could learn to rebuild the bridge in maintaining their old and somewhat tattered friendship.

He would see Poppy in her face, wondering if the girl would take his dark curls or her mother’s blonde waves. He saw the little girl dance in Effie’s blue eyes. Her laughter, a noise she couldn’t even make, flew through the trees on lazy spring days. It wouldn’t be alright that she was gone, but he could accept it. She was gone, but all was not lost, completely.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. 
> 
> Really. I am. Kind of.


End file.
